


When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

by SundialBloom



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben is able to be corporal for like a few hours, M/M, and klaus is lonely, apocalypse has been averted, klaus is sober but he struggles, vanya is working on her powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-07 01:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundialBloom/pseuds/SundialBloom
Summary: the notes are fizzled and cut short, hanging at the back of his throat as his lips tremble and refuse to move. The words are on the tip of his tongue and it hurts. The thought bubbles up before he can do anything:"I need Dave."and the mere utterance of his name is a swift knife to his chest. the lyrics are playing in his mind but it's not enough, not enough to stop his trembling hands.





	1. Chapter 1

Klaus counts the breaths between each heartbeat as if waiting for a stutter of a danger he knows won’t come. Or at least, won’t come at this moment considering that the jungle has been a bit tame these past few agonizingly humid and hot days. Realistically speaking, that was often a clear sign something is going to disturb the long-awaited peace that had settled over his squad. Only five months into this shit fest had engraved these untold facts into him. Knowing the facts and turning away from them to have some sense of joy was another scenario, so Klaus took this time to suck it in as much as he could.

They weren’t supposed to have their cots too close together. It was something Mike, another soldier, often said as a means to explain how even though the wild around them had settled and calmed, safety was never truly there. Klaus vaguely understood the reasoning behind it, but as usual with his philosophy of life, Klaus bent and broke rules that touched close to the line of mortality. Which is why Klaus was currently scooted much closer than appropriate to Dave, arm snaking stealthily deep into the others cot to clutch at his hand. He had asked permission during a rare moment where they were alone, a sheepish request that made Klaus’s ears burn uncharacteristically. Dave had only laughed and smiled, joining their hands together and nodding, willingly giving Klaus a tether in the night.

He always kept one finger on Dave’s pulse point. It was a little silly, and if Ben knew he'd mock him endlessly, but he liked the constant thrum that reminded him that Dave was very much alive. The heat and pressure and movement grounded him in the night in a way the comforting words of Ben couldn’t. Especially when he was going through the lovely event of withdrawal or had the unfortunate favor of being sober in rehab.

Klaus winced lightly as the cry of a horrified dead soldier rung loudly in his ears. No one else had twitched or awakened, and the voices that had been background noise had faded, the last of those awake now doing their best to sleep. Screams were a constant at ware, but that one scream was like opening the floodgates and the calm that had once flickered between heartbeats had dissipated, leaving desperate scratchy voices and gruesome sights Klaus deliberately refused to see by shutting his eyes tightly and curling up closer to Dave.

He tries to focus on their conjoined hands, reveling in the shared heat, in the perfect way Dave’s hand molded with his. His pulse that beat smoothly against his rapidly quickening one. A ghost must have moved a bit closer in interest, shrieking in alarm and want for attention, voice pitched in a sad way that just tells Klaus it was civilian that didn’t deserve to die. The noise makes Klaus whine softly, pulling his hand away from the safety of Dave and over his ears. It didn’t do much to stop the bombardment of sound all around him, but it muffled it slightly. His hand was already cooling off slightly, and Klaus feels a slight detachment, a pang of anxiety settling high in his chest. Dave. He knew the man couldn’t hear the ghosts but he needed to know that his sleep had gone undisturbed. He slowly peels his hands away, eyes clamped shut and jaw clenched as more voices grow louder and begin to overlap. He knows the path to Dave’s hand, memorized it like his life depended on it, but this time when his arm sneaks through it comes across empty air and an uncomfortable lack of heat.

The shock and sudden fear of not being able to find Dave’s hand make his eyes snap open, and it’s a mistake he immediately pays for. There's a woman standing over him, long brown hair tangled and stained with mud, spine contorted in the startling show of a shattered spinal cord. Her face is an open scream, a gaping hole from the roof of her mouth and out her left eye. She’s noisy too, and she likes the attention Klaus accidentally gives her. She wails something in Vietnamese and Klaus catches the words “child” and possibly “Trap” but he isn't sure. Isn’t sure of anything because he’s already folding into himself and making a high pitched sound that he knows will mean either punishment or a swift fist to his temple for the trouble he’s caused.

“Klaus.” Klaus shivers at the sound of his name, a bit surprised the ghosts have learned it already. It had taken the ghosts in the mansion and mausoleum years to call him anything other than "Four" and even longer for them to learn Klaus. Five months wasn't that long, Klaus pondered in his panic, maybe a couple of dead soldiers had wandered in. Perhaps it was the ghost of Cameron DeWitt, a young man who died early on about 2 months in. He hadn't shown himself to Klaus, and there was a chance he had already passed on. Klaus wasn't exactly fond of having to see the remanents of a practical child being caught in an explosion, but he finds himself missing the cheery optimistic kid anyway.

“Hey, Klaus, open your eyes, you're not breathing right,” it's the slight warmth and touch of a hand pressing against his cheeks that cause him to jolt and sit up. Instead of coming to face with a ghost Klaus hits the sturdy wall of a chest. He presses himself into it, uncaring if another round of Sally jokes makes its way around the squad. Not that he cared in the first place, everyone in 173rd seemed to understand even without words that Klaus was a friend of Dorothy.

Arms wrap themselves around his back and Klaus sighs deeply at the contact, breath shuddering before shyly opening his eyes. Dave peers at him with a soft smile, eyes betraying the warm sentiment with the hot concern that burns in his gaze. Of course, it's Dave. Klaus almost berates himself for getting so lost in his head that he couldn't recognize the only voice that mattered.

“Sorry.” comes the quiet apology, raw and hoarse in a way Klaus refuses to admit to. Dave shakes his head, eyes softening. He steers Klaus back down into his cot, and he doesn't even try to resist, just lets Dave take control. He feels his own heart soar at the firm and loving touch, skin buzzing at what feels like a deeper frequency than the wail that suddenly cuts through the air.

Klaus flinches but watches Dave with interest. He adjusts himself a bit, elbow going through the women from earlier causing her to choke unhappily, but eventually, he settles back in his cot and turns to face Klaus. He captures Klaus' gaze immediately, forcing him to focus on his face and nothing else. Klaus feels his breath grow more steady, the more he’s allowed to just take Dave in, stare into his knowing eyes.

A hand darts out and grabs his own, and it's held tenderly with care. It takes Klaus’s breath away and when a hand meets his cheek and a thumb starts to stroke idly he almost sees stars. The contact is everything he needs, and the voices are already beginning to get quieter. He never wants this to end, the moment feeling like a dream. But then Dave's mouth opens and Klaus is overwhelmed with a tender warmth he can't imagine being able to explain.

_You are my sunshine. My only Sunshine._

Dave's voice is quiet, barely loud enough for Klaus to hear, much less anyone else.

_You make me happy when skies are grey._

The voices get fuzzier, slowly fading like static, and although Dave isn't singing any louder, it's volume seems to double in Klaus’s mind.

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you._

Klaus closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and letting the words wash over him. Tomorrow could mean death. Tomorrow they'd be back to hacking through a meaningless jungle, avoiding traps and fighting in a pointless war.

_Please don't take my sunshine away._

Klaus doesn't remember falling asleep, but that morning he feels more rested than he has in years.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been two months since the apocalypse was miraculously avoided, or ended, whichever way you looked at it. And despite the gap of time, Klaus is still unable to choke out the words without trembling and breaking down Into tears. 

Not that he tried all that much, he was a bit busy being with his family, supporting Vanya, and working really hard to just  _ stay _ sober. But in the few moments he tried, mostly early on post-end-of-the-world shit, only a few syllables were squeaked out. If he was lucky, maybe a good chunk of words got out before Klaus found himself with a tightly shut throat, unable to talk for a couple of hours. 

It was rather unfortunate, considering how every time he even made an attempt to sing the song he knew it was the only thing that was going to clear his head at that moment. From flashbacks to nightmares, to sudden displacement of confusion where he isn't truly sure where he is,  Klaus clings to the words in his mind. Clings to Dave. With only the memory of a voice, nothing to truly ground him… well, let's just say, there's been a lot of sleepless nights these past few months.

Ben is spending more time with the others, especially now that Klaus can make him tangible, or at least visible for larger amounts of time. It's an upside to his sobriety, and although addiction clings to him still, morphing his thoughts into recipes or maps to alleyways, the startling sadness, and disappointment that would radiate off of Ben is enough to make Klaus reroute his thoughts. He mostly does this by smacking his head on the wall or with any blunt object beside him, an action that has given him more than a normal amount of bruises. But hey, it worked. It was one of the few things that were going for him, might as well keep utilizing it until it stopped working.

Even with his self-diagnosed remedy, he still catches worry and deep melancholy from Ben’s gazes when he thinks he's not looking. Abstractly, he knows Ben probably talks to his siblings about him, or at least, the 13 years he spent by his side. But, now with the added bonus of being able to talk to other people, Ben doesn't just outright say what he's thinking. Doesn't angrily argue with Klaus or stay with him to hash out details. It made Klaus feel inexplicably lonely, but he refuses to let himself be mad or even a bit agitated at Ben for wanting to grow and spend time with others. Not after what he went through, not after all the time he spent alone.

So Klaus does what any normal person would do, he goes out into the courtyard, finds a good hefty rock a bit bigger than his hand, and adopts it.

It's some type of igneous rock, not that it matters, but it's got a little cluster of speckled red-grey on it that makes Klaus pretend fondly that its previous life was that of being a forgotten murder weapon. 

It’s heavy in his hands, a gentle weight that feels surprisingly cool despite the warmer weather. As he trudged up the stairs back to his room he pets at it, cycling through names. He pointedly ignores the strange look Five gives him when he goes past his room. The younger looking brother opening his jaw as if to comment before shrugging and returning back to whatever equation he was writing, Klaus would have to thank him later, he was one of the few out of his siblings to take what he does in stride, not even batting an eye at his strange activities and hobbies.

Benjamin 2.6 is the name he settles on. It’s a little bit of pettiness, a little bit of being lonely, and together it makes a rocking combo that makes Klaus snicker to think about. he places it on the desk beside his bed and promptly forgets anything else by flopping on his mattress and trying to come up with ideas for his new companion.

A few days later the new Benjamin has a horrific scrape along the edge of it.

Klaus had been doing better, he promises, but with the warmer weather, and the arguments that grow between siblings despite the talk of mending relationships, his mind has been anything but at rest.

Cravings were worse than ever, the sweat on his back reminded him too much of blood, and god did he miss talking to Ben. That wasn’t to say that he couldn’t, Ben still stuck by his side for a large majority of the days. But there was something so tender and hard to breach about his time in Vietnam. It was one of the only times Ben wasn’t there to experience what happened to him, and the weird surprise Klaus felt realizing that he previously didn’t have to worry about coming clean about events because Ben was a witness hit him harder. Klaus was well known for being secretive, who knew that habit still applied to his dead brother who’d been glued to his side for 12 years.

He’s never had to stretch the conversational muscle of sharing intimate information with Ben, it’s not something he knows how to do. It’s awful to think, but Klaus almost wishes Ben was there to see the beginning and end of his time with Dave. If only so he doesn’t have to brush off his brother every night when he finds himself waking up in tears to Ben’s worried face. He sometimes wishes Ben understood why he spent a little extra time in the bathroom, washing his hands raw because for a moment he could feel the blood on his hands again.

He wishes he could just sing the goddamn song.

He’s been tenser, and the song was one of the few things that unwound muscles taut in his shoulders and neck. He hasn’t dared tried recently, not with the near constant family meetings that are about discussing the future of the umbrella academy and Vanya. His stupid crying fits seemed to last for hours, and he refuses to let his siblings see his eye shadow as anything other than a smokey dream.

Either way, you can’t blame him for freaking out just an itsy teensy bit by the loud shudder of the mansion. It knocks him off his feet and makes him press deep into the carpet, hands over his head in an instant. He swears it’s an explosion, something awful- and god he knew he should’ve kept a better eye on Andrew and Keith, he can’t see them over the dust and gunfire, and the dirt plumes from more smaller explosives don’t help either. he hastily grabs something, anything, and lobs it roughly in the direction of the gunfire, hoping it's a grenade or a bayonet. his hearing is fizzing out and the screams of soldiers blur away to nothing. Where's Dave? He can’t see Dave and he can feel himself getting overloaded by stimuli he needs something, needs-

Oh, 

The tremor of the walls and furniture stop, easing away to nothing. His hearing still seems to be a sharp line of white noise, but he at least starts to uncurl himself and actually open his eyes. No mortar has destroyed his bedroom. There are no bodies laying adjacent to him. he's alone inside his cluttered room, breathing in the dusty air and stale stench of prepubescent sweat. he nervously curls a hand into the soft texture of the carpet, trying to keep his grip on location. his throat seems to jump to action with movement despite the transpiring events.

the vibrations are stilted, choked and needy, but Klaus recognizes it. a familiar tune emanates from his throat, and he pulls himself entirely into it. He is not sure how long he stays on the floor, hands gently resting on his trachea, feeling each upturn and jump as the unspoken words linger in his mind. He doesn't find himself caring either way. tears leak from his eyes and trail awkwardly down his cheek and on his throat. He doesn't care. 

despite the previous shudder of his world, he cocoons himself in the sensation of being able to hum. He knows the song wasn't made by some soldier lost in the events of another war, knows of its origins of a nursery rhyme, but with each note his heart and mind thrum with a constant: _Dave, Dave, Dave._

Later that evening Klaus finds Benjamin 2.6, a victim of his panic. He had thrown the little fella roughly at the wall, a large dent and crack now interrupting the lines of words and stories he had written as a teen. Ashamed, he finds himself apologizing, thumbing at the awful streak now embedded in the pet rock. That night, as a weird form of an apology, he sleeps with Benjamin 2.6 on his chest, focusing on the weight and cupping a hand tenderly over the top. He absentmindedly tries to teach Ben 2.6 a song in his attempt to sleep. He hums and hums till his throat is sore, stopping when the feeling of the rock on his chest is distant and far away.


End file.
